


Genji's Path to Peace

by thephilosophah



Series: Peace and blessings, life is tough [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, does it count as major character death if genji dies but survives??, second chapter gets kinda gorey so watch out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9196931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephilosophah/pseuds/thephilosophah
Summary: Genji's entire life story, basically. Each chapter is titled for the strongest relationship he has at that point. Second POV, four chapters and an epilogue. This is my first ovw fic!!





	1. Hanzo

It was a game when you were little, everything was.

"I summon the dragons!" Hanzo said, but nothing happened.

Your father laughed. "It doesn't quite work like that. You have to give them a purpose, something to do. They're ancient spirits and they won't answer void calls."

"But last time I didn't do anything."

"Last time, you were hurt. Remember, the twins might be weapons, but you wield them, and without you, they are lost. Just as you are young and learning, they too need to get accustomed to your calls. Give them a purpose, and they will appear."

Hanzo pouted in his confusion, a cute face made cuter by the baby fat he was still in the process of losing. You mimicked the expression from your spot on the floor.

"Come on, now, think about it. What if I call you from another room, but don't tell you what I want you for? You wouldn't answer, would you? Give them something to do. Say, that man over there." Your father pointed at one of the guards, who obediently walked closer. "Tell them to tickle him."

Hanzo looked up. "I'll summon a pair of gods to tickle Mr. Guard?"

"It's a purpose. And they will be unleashed on someone else, like weapon might. Now take care of your wording, we don't want Mr. Guard getting actually hurt."

Hanzo thought for a long few seconds. Then, he raised his hands in a flashy manner, and shouted:

"O twin dragons, annoy my enemy!"

Still, nothing.

"Very good!" Your father said. "I think you can pull it off for real this time. All you need is a material weapon. Because...?"

"Because the twins are weapons", Hanzo said. "And if I try to pull them out of my skin, they'll hurt me. Like last time."

Your father nodded.

Hanzo picked up a rock from the ground. "O twin dragons, annoy my enemy!" He threw the rock.

The rock itself landed quite a ways from the guard. The dragons that spilled out of it rode up his form like neon blue ribbons, wild and laughing as they twisted around his head. They disappeared as soon as they left his body without any fanfare.

The man fell to his knees, coughed and coughed. He took a deep breath and gave a thumbs-up.

"See? No harm done."

Hanzo laughed as your father picked him up, headed inside.

"Genji! Come along, now!"

You took your eyes off the collapsed, heavy-lunged man on the ground and ran after your father and brother.

 

Hanzo had first summoned his dragons without words, just a kid's scream when he got bitten by a dog. The moment he saw the creatures, he forgot about the animal, and therefore so did the dragons. They turned on the only other thing related to them, Hanzo himself, and, as these things tend to go, nearly knocked him out.

You asked him time after time to retell the story, trying to imagine what your spirits might look like, feel like, but still you weren't prepared. Some two years after Hanzo's dragons appeared, your own decided to say hi.

You had climbed up a bookcase and, of course, fell to your doom, and screamed. You blinked and a glowing green rope held you up just long enough that you wouldn't break anything, but still bruise.

You looked at it, and it looked back. All you had time to think before it disappeared was, _those are some long whiskers._

 

Father was delighted; you had summoned a whole year younger than Hanzo had. It was a record age in this bloodline, he said. You knew about that one aunt and her many kids who had all been born with a soft glow behind their eyes, but they were very far and their dragons couldn't be summoned.

Still - record! You boasted to your friends. Your mother and Hanzo were very proud of you.

 

You were twelve when you were first taught how to handle shuriken. You loved them. You even had a glove custom made for you so you could have faster access to them. Your dragon didn't like them much. It wouldn't go further than two arms' reach from you, and felt very cozy in your sword. It was fine, you figured, better keep the enemy at a distance. If there was really a situation where you had to draw your sword, then it would be dire enough that you'd need your dragon.

 

You were fifteen and truth-or-dare-ing at a party when you were asked, "if you could make out with anyone in this room, who would it be?" You said "everyone" without a moment's hesitation and laughed alongside them, then suggested a game of spin the bottle with a wink.

 

You were seventeen, hanging with your pack of friends at the arcade after school, and your tattoo was just healing. One of the girls kept poking at the bandages as if that'd make it heal faster. She didn't know you were supposed to take them off that day anyway.

Finally you said, "Will you stop if I take them off?"

And she just nodded with stars in her eyes.

You took them off. Your friends stared - at least, those who weren't occupied with the arcade's games. Then they all started speaking at the same time.

"Shut up!" someone yelled, and they all did. "Genji, that's beautiful!", she continued, walking closer so you could tell it was one of your two girlfriends. Her hair was bright pink. She, along with your other girlfriend, their mutual best friend and two of the guys playing racing games over there had all gone and dyed their hair colorful together like a silly band. It looked cute. You'd ask to tag along when they went back to touch up their roots.

The aforementioned best friend (purple hair, cute glasses, was probably going to start dating both girlfriends soon enough) finished her game just that moment, turned her head, and squealed.

"What the fuck! Genji that's gorgeous!" She took your hand and pulled it closer so she could take a look at the dragon's head resting just shy of your knuckles. "There's no way you did this in one session!"

"I did, though."

"Bullshit!" She grabbed your bicep, pulled that closer too. Her eyes flew back and forth over your forearm.

"Okay, that's enough", you laughed, taking your arm back. "It's not healed all the way yet."

"Why a dragon, man? Your family that obsessed?" someone said.

"No. Well, yeah, but this'll help me summon mine, you know?"

"No?"

"Yeah, buddy it's either tattoo or weapon, and swords aren't exactly allowed everywhere."

"Dude show us!"

You frowned. "I'm not summoning an ancient spirit of protection in a goddamn arcade."

"Let's go back at my place!" Your other girlfriend (teal hair, cheeky grin) said. "There's enough room for everyone!"

Some of the pack complained that they had evening classes, or homework, or some other teenager thing to occupy their time. You weren't any better - Hanzo'd be pissed if he had to cover your ass at a meeting four times in a row. You shot him a text.

_> ay bro what time is the meet 2day???_

_< It's seven o'clock. Do not be late, they're going to take it out on me again._

_> yeah soz for last time ;p ill be there on time_

"I can come over, but we gotta be quick. I've got a family thing today." 

"Aww, Genji", your girlfriend pouted, "Can't you skip it?"

"Oh no way, Hanzo's gonna have my head if I do."

"Oh yeah, is your brother single lately or?"

You couldn't tell who said that last one, but given your pack, they spoke for everyone.

As soon as you got in your girlfriend's house you sat in a corner, knit your hands and concentrated. Seeing it was funny, but it made the others shush.

You try to remember how Hanzo taught you to do it. No words - just thoughts, he said. Otherwise the dragon'll come out guns-a-blazing.

You take a deep breath. You open your eyes and your skin glows.

Your forearm tickles as the dragon climbs out of it. You bring your right hand on your left shoulder so you can wear the spirit like a scarf, maybe. It goes, for a little bit, circles around your neck until its face is back on your left shoulder.

 _(You called me for a show)_ , it says. It accuses.

"Say hi?" you say with the smile of a man who knows he's fucked up.

_(I am not a toy for entertainment, mortal. Certainly not for your feeble friends.)_

"Well, sorry! They were just curious."

_(It may mean their demise one day. Do not toy with me.)_

It bites your cheek and dissipates.

You blink for a moment. Your friends stare at you as you bleed. Your girlfriend and host shrieks and goes running for a med kit. She covers your cheek with a messy bandage.

You've never excused yourself so fast in your life.

You take a shower and give your wound a proper dressing when you get home, and that's all you have time to do before Hanzo finds you.

"There you are! I've been- what happened to your face?"

"I fell."

Hanzo rolls his eyes. "Sure you did. Get dressed, we have to be there in half an hour. Do you even know what the subject is?"

"What does it matter? I'm not gonna speak anyway. You're better at talking and they never listen to me, ever."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?"

Hanzo frowns. He starts analyzing the subject instead of answering, so you tune him out. Your dragon rattles in your lungs.

 

You're twenty-two and you think you must be in love again, only this one creeped up on you. You were asked, at a party (of course), on truth-or-dare (of fucking course), who could you see yourself marrying. Your brain got stuck on three different people, so you said those three, but it bothered you for the rest of the game that you blue screened over it. All three of those people are at the party - hell, you're dating one of them - and looking at each of them in turn doesn't help in picking just one.

What the hell. Hanzo would laugh in your face if he could see you, at a party, in your boyfriend's lap with a shot glass in hand, looking around like a confused animal.

It's a funny thought. You text him to share it. You reread the text the next morning and all it says is 'hanzo dont laugh at me looking for my spouses'. Hanzo's response was nothing but the eyes emoji. You never explain the joke, but sometimes you look at the text and laugh to yourself.

 

You're twenty-four and you have to untangle yourself from three sets of naked limbs before you can leave the bed to answer your phone.

"Yes?"

"Genji Shimada where have you been- you are in a world of trouble, brother, do you have any excuse at all?"

"Uh, repeat that slower please? I'm kinda still asleep."

"Asleep? It's six in the evening."

"I was gonna sleep until morning like a normal person but you woke me up."

"Why would - forget it. We had a meeting all morning and you didn't even show up."

"Oh come on, Hanzo, what's one more?"

"It was the biannual one! You can't miss these! And I couldn't cover you no matter what I said!"

You rub your eye. "I'm sorry, okay? I just - they don't care about me, I don't care about them, why bother pretending at all?"

"We have a reputation to up hold."

"I don't think the public cares about me much, brother."

"But I do", he says and you feel very awake right now, "and I hate watching the elders frowning at the mention of your name."

"I'm sorry", you say, again. "When's the next meeting?"

"We have a small one at eight if you can make it."

"I'll be there, I promise."

 

You're twenty-five and you keep your head down. The elders babble on and you just stare at the dark wood of the table. You honestly couldn't care less about anything any of them had to say. The least they could do was not have a meeting on the day of the funeral, and they fucking do. Fuck them. They don't deserve your attention. They don't even deserve your presence but you'll be damned to high hell if you let Hanzo deal with them on his own.

All on his own.

You want to cry. You know you shouldn't, not in front of them, but you just want to find a dark corner somewhere and grieve your father. But no, you're stuck here choking back sobs while the clan elders yap incessantly about leadership.

Your dragon coils in your gut. It's a comforting support and you accept it whole-heartedly.

It's not two weeks later that they start screaming at you for missing meetings. It hasn't even been a month! When are you supposed to grieve?

 _(They're fools)_ , the dragon offers. It's scared too, but it's a protection spirit and it feels the need to give you comfort. _(Pay them no mind.)_

 _(How can I? They control everything)_ , you shoot back with nerves working their way up your spine.

 _(They don't control_ me. _)_

You blink.

The dragon is ashamed to have suggested it, and you're terrified because it could think it.

You promise your dragon you'll never summon it against your family, and it promises never to answer if you do.

Three hours later your brother finds you hidden between two roofs. He's fuming.

"Where were you? I swear, Genji, we've had this conversation thousands of times."

"Why do you keep asking? The answer is always the same. I wasn't there, and that's all that matters, isn't it?" You climb down the building. He follows.

"Yes! This was the one meeting you shouldn't have missed for your life!"

"You just talked about how you'll definitely inherit the leadership like always, what was I supposed to do there?"

"Be present. You are a Shimada leader son as well, you must say your word at the trial-"

"Look, Hanzo", you put up a hand, "I don't care. We all knew it'd be you, why would I go?" You start down the empty street. "I'm tired. Of all of this. Our father is dead and none of you ever let me mourn him. It's not even been a month."

Hanzo hurries after you, voice raising in pitch and volume. "The elders have asked of me-"

"I don't care what they want, Hanzo. Let me be clear with this." You turn around. "I hate the clan and the elders with a burning passion. Whatever they asked you, doesn't concern me."

"They want you to help lead the clan."

You blink. You take a step back. You shake your head. "No, I- Why did they think that was a good idea? I don't want to have anything to do with any of the clan's activities."

He steps closer. "Genji, listen. We could change it."

"We can't. Are you hearing yourself? You can't even tell them to leave me alone, but you think you can change centuries' worth of illegality?"

"Not by myself! If I have you with me-"

"I don't want them! They'll twist anything we try to do to their wishes, you know they will!"

"You can't just give up without trying", he pleads, grabbing your arm.

"I've tried too long. I just want to stop, Hanzo, please."

"You can't stop when we're this close!" he pulls you by the elbow.

Your dragon gives a flick of its tail, just to let you know that it is, indeed, just under your skin.

"This close to what? So you became leader", you pull your arm back. "What next?"

"Next we shut them up and do things our way." He grabs your shoulders, this time.

"Do it yourself then!" you push his hands away. "I don't want to be with the clan!"

"What about me?" he shouts. "Do you not want to be with me, either? Will you leave me by myself?" He grabs your shirt.

Your dragon hisses.

"It's not about you being by yourself", you push him hard, "it's about you leaving me alone."

"Why would you want to be alone? What's wrong with you? We can be powerful, everything we've worked for so far-"

"I never wanted this. You're the only one who worked for it."

He punches you in the gut. You trip his legs and go running to the house.

You barely make it past the gates before he tackles you to the ground. You hear a crack and pray it was the floor instead of your bones. Your rib hurts.

"Why won't you just work with me?" he yells. "What else is there to do with your life?"

"That's not you talking!", you yell back, struggling to throw him off. "It's them, Hanzo, do you hear what you're saying?"

He pins your right arm down. You bite your tongue and pull out the sword on your hip with your free hand, watch him slide away.

"Leave me alone!" You make sure to keep the sword pointing to the side or back so he knows you won't use it on him. "Just leave me alone, all of you! Come back when you can speak for yourself!"

Hanzo dives around you and goes for your right side. "I am speaking for myself! I only want what's best for you, and us, and the clan!"

He snaps your wrist and takes your sword, and you really, really want to say that your own brother wouldn't stab you, but he does. Multiple times.

You spit at him, slip out of his attack and dive in the side room. "Do you even want anything at this point, or have they possessed you?"

"You're talking nonsense!"

You run up the stairs. Whatever's broken hurts you at the hip joint and the ankle. "Am I? Am I, Hanzo?"

You see it a moment too late. Hanzo's bow is in the corner of the room, and he only spares you a glance before he snatches it up.

"You wouldn't-" is all you have time to say before he shoots at you. You dive around the corner to the balcony, but he's still too close, too close for you to dodge anything. He shoots another in a curved path, hits you at the thigh.

He comes at the doorway.

"Genji, please. Just come with me."

He looks haunted. Your dragon weeps and burns at your wrist.

"No."

He nocks, he draws, he fires, but it happens so fast you never even see it. You only hear,

"Let the dragon consume you!"

as you reach for the sword over your shoulder. You can deflect the twins, you know you can, except-

The arrow Hanzo summoned through lodges itself in your shoulder.

Your dragon gets stuck somewhere between your blade and your wrist.

The twins come at you with utter horror in their eyes.

It all goes bright blue, and then very, very dark.

 


	2. Mercy

You have the vague impression you're cold.

Things are warm and fuzzy, though. Like cotton candy fresh out of the machine. But you get the feeling you should probably be cold.

You'd also prefer not to feel like a shapeless mass, but hey, some things, you can't choose.

You think you hear a voice, maybe two, from another room. There's another voice, louder and closer, that you don't exactly hear, but at least this one speaks in your mother tongue.

_(Stay with me)_ , the second voice says. Or, that's what you think it says. It's hard to concentrate on words somewhere between the abstract concept of existence and the crippling nausea you have going on.

For a moment you wonder if you've actually discovered what the afterlife is like, but then you choke blood out of your lungs and you figure no dead man could replicate such an earthly sense.

You can't see, or feel, or taste anything, and whatever you hear is muted and distorted, and you're not sure if you can smell due to the blood clotting up your nostrils, but you can't breathe anyway, so you figure none of those things are important.

_(Stay with me, Genji, please, I'm begging you.)_

Oh yeah. You have a name. You exist.

It takes you too long to realize the almost-voice is your dragon. You can't feel it anywhere on you. You're scared. You don't know how the dragon feels, and that makes you more sacred.

You're not sure if you're nauseous because your ears've been blown out, or because you're being moved at impossible speeds, but you're absolutely certain you cannot throw up.

The warm leaves you, chased out by the coldest ray you've ever felt in your short, ending life. It hurts. So, so much. You were better without your sense of touch, at least it didn't hurt like this.

You're being held, grabbed, shoved this way and that. You're pinched all over until a touch on your right shoulder lets you know that your dragon is half stuck in the space between your collarbone and shoulderblade, and half hanging out of where your arm used to be.

You scream and thrash.

You're let to black out, finally.

 

On your next moment of conscience you can breathe. It _burns_.

 

You lose track of everything as you're shoved in and out of conscious thought until you can finally, actually tell where your dragon is. It's coiled just under your lungs.

It's crying.

It's never cried before. You didn't think it could.

_(What's wrong?)_ you ask with agonizing effort.

_(You're not dead)_ , it says, like relief, but also like shame.

_(Is that bad?)_

_(It's so, so bad.)_

You get stuck thinking about that and you black out before you figure anything out.

 

Later on you understand just how much you should be thanking your dragon for funtioning as your diaphragm until you were given a new one. The new one hurts on every breath but your dragon almost screams as it's let to become ethereal again.

It comes back almost instantly, by your count, and nests under your new diaphragm.

Breathing hurts less.

 

For a long while, the only thing you can reference time on is your dragon. It mostly stays in place to support your breathing, though, so you really have no idea what happens. You can only communicate with it when you're lucid, anyway.

 

One day you wake up and you can just hear like you hadn't been deaf.

There's a voice speaking, but you don't understand a word it says. Just finding out that it talks in a different language tires you enough that you pass back out.

 

You're awoken to a light, and you didn't know you had eyes or that you could open them until you do.

The voice speaks. You see a light that moves away, leaving a softer light behind. You blink at the tiled ceiling.

There's a woman over you, and the fluorescent lights give her a halo. She's the one whose voice you hear, you realize when she opens her mouth.

You try to focus on the words but you simply don't understand them. You think you know the language, vaguely, but you barely have enough brainpower to keep your eyes open. Translating can't happen right now.

You try to tell her you can't function. You pass out as soon as you open your mouth.

 

She's there again when you next open your eyes. She's not staring at your face this time, more downwards and to the side. You open your mouth - overjoyed you stay awake - and speak.

Or you try to, before you realize there's nothing you can say.

You think. Your dragon breathes with you. You smell ozone.

"What happened?" you settle on.

The woman turns. The halo forms around her as she leans closer. You think you see a pair of wings.

You still don't understand the angel's language.

You know you know it, but it's not your native and trying to understand it in Korean doesn't work, and you're not fluent in any other languages.

"I don't understand", you say. Your voice sounds weird to your own ears.

The angel makes an expression. Your eyes are too blurry to catch it.

She speaks slower. You almost understand a word before you go under.

 

She's talking in English, you find out. You catch the word 'are' because it's repeated a lot so it's easy to focus on, and realize it's English.

"No", you say, eloquently, because that's all you can remember in her spoken language right now.

"No?" she asks.

"No."

 

Next time she catches you awake she has a screen in her lap, and she keeps looking down. Your vision's got good enough to tell she tries to smile.

"Hello, my name is Doctor Angela Ziegler", she says in horrible, heavily accented Japanese.

"You can't possibly have 'doctor' be part of your name", you slur. It was actually more along the lines of, "doctor's your name?", but she doesn't seem to get it.

"I don't understand", she says. The accent stays but the grammar is perfect. A phrase she learnt to use as-is. She puts a hand on her chest. "I'm Mercy."

You try to mimic the gesture. Your dragon hisses. "Genji", you say.

She smiles. "Genji."

"What happened?"

"You got badly hurt. Not dead. I'm keeping you alive."

Keeping.

_(Like an animal)_ , the dragon snarls.

"Why?"

"Do you not want?" she frowns. "Why not?"

"I don't want to die, but I just... don't see what you gain from wasting effort on me."

"I don't understand."

The dragon scoffs, hides under your ribcage. "Of course you don't."

 

Over the next few times you wake up, your vision clears out to crystal. In a mix of broken Japanese and mime Angel says she's fixed your myopia, like it's no big deal. A passing matter, to her, that you've burned your eyes on dry contacts for the past fourteen years.

...Shit, is it even still the same year?

She doesn't understand the question, and there's no calendar in the room (or anything, really) so you drop it.

She tries to describe your injuries, fails terribly. She says some words like she only knows how to pronounce them in her mother tongue. Turns out that's not even English.

Your sense of touch is still pretty muted. In fact most of it seems concentrated just under and around your eyes. You can move your mouth a bit, but you only feel the movement on your cheeks. You can also tell there's some sort of mask over your nose and mouth, probably giving you fresh oxygen, leaving that ozone smell hanging on your nostrils.

Angel says a lot of your body was lost. Your dragon regretfully provides a vivid flashback of what it saw when it hung out of your shoulder to stop the bleeding.

You have no limbs whatsoever, your left shoulder is still there but everything else was torn at the root. Even worse, the dragon was still out when Angel and her group of doctor minions started chopping you up further to salvage only what was still whole.

You lost your ears, most of your throat, some of your mouth. Your eyes were bleeding out and it made your dragon panic enough to waste effort on them. It's the only reason they didn't throw your eyes out, you figure.

Your pelvis was broken when you fell (was pushed), as you feared (knew and denied), and later burned through ice (dragons), so they took it away.

Apparently for a while your dragon was the only thing keeping you alive, coiled under your lungs to trick your body into thinking it didn't end exactly there.

They couldn't even save all of your ribs.

Your spine is mostly intact, the dragon says, though the column of bones was, for a long time, near naked to the air.

You ask your dragon to move. It refuses. You pass out.

 

You remember English after you try very, very hard, so you have your first real conversation with Dr. Angela Ziegler, also known as Mercy of Overwatch.

"Overwatch? _The_ Overwatch?"

"Yes. We have prime technology that could, given the right hands, restore you to peak condition."

Peak condition, like some soldier they're fixing.

"What do you ask for in turn?"

"I ask for nothing", she says. She even puts a hand to her chest.

"Then who is?"

"No one, not now."

When then?

Oh, you passed out again, she didn't hear the question.

 

"Can you give me something to keep me awake?"

"It's a miracle you even get this much time. Whatever that green snake is, it does wonders."

"It's a- No. Can't you help? You said you have technology."

"I can give you a new body, yes. A better one than what you had. But I need your permission first."

'Give' stings, 'better' hurts worse and 'permission' is just too cruel of a joke at this point.

 

You go under for a long time. In your daze you realize you never asked how long it's been since you died. How long it's been since Children's Day.

 

You wake up and breathing is easy. The smell of ozone is gone, or you got used to it.

You clench you fists. It works.

You want to cry. Your dragon is still corporeal.

_(Go home_ ), you tell it, _(rest.)_

_(I can't.)_

_(Why not?)_

_(You summoned me into your world but I never managed to leave your skin. By my point of view, I'm still stuck in a tattoo that doesn't exist and a blade that's far and gone.)_

_(You've been here all this time?)_

_(No, I can leave for short periods. Very short.)_

You swallow a sob.

_(Can I help you?)_

_(Yes),_ it says. _(You have to summon me properly. After that it'll be back to normal.)_

_(Thank you. For waiting on me. And keeping me alive. But I don't have a tattoo anymore, or a blade we're familiar with.)_

_(I know. We'll find one. And give yourself some credit, child, you survived just as much as I helped you.)_

"Mercy."

She walks closer. She's wearing heels. "Yes? Can you hear me?"

"Yes. Mercy, I need... a knife, of sorts, or a sword. A weapon of some kind."

Her eyebrows knit together. "This is a medical unit."

"A razor. I don't care, Angel, please, I really, really need a handheld weapon."

"You're safe here, Genji, you don't need to defend yourself."

You wonder if screaming would damage your voicebox. "It's not that."

"What is it, then?"

"I can't tell you. Doctor, please, I know it sounds random but this is extremely important. You said you were with Overwatch, there's no way you can't get your hands on a weapon. Hell, just find a knife, Doctor, I'm begging you."

"For your safety, as well as my own, I can't let any weapons or sharp items near you if I'm not using them myself."

"Doctor, I can't move. What would leaving a butter knife near my person do to either of us?"

She frowns and walks away.

You still have no sense of time, but you think it's only a short while before she comes back and fits some brass knuckles over your fingers.

 

You're patient. Your dragon, despite its suffering, insists that you wait before fixing its summon. So you do, until you finally find yourself awake and alone.

You don't know when she'll come back. There's bound to be cameras in the room, but spirits never appeared on film and sometimes managed to break screens for trying to capture them.

_(Will you answer an empty call?)_

_(After what's happened? I would answer to a lack of question.)_

You move your hand around until your knuckles face up.

"The dragon protects me", you rasp.

It slips up your chest and down your arm, settles cozily in the brass knuckles, making them glow green.

_(Thank you.)_

 

There's another voice. You keep your eyes closed and focus on translating what you can.

"Really?"

"Yes! With honors, I'm so proud of her. Oh I think I have a picture somewhere, she looks so nice in her uniform."

"I'm sure she does, Captain, don't bother scrolling through your folders. Where will she be stationed?"

"We don't know yet. You know how slow the paperwork always is. I'm pulling some strings to get her to Giza, but you never know with these things."

"Ah yes. I've never been through it, but I imagine it must be a bother. I keep hearing stories of tiring assignments of early graduates dragging on too long. Sometimes I'm glad I never went to uni properly."

"Oh, that's right! You didn't! Really, I keep forgetting, what do I have my mind on?"

"Nonsense, you have so much responsibility. It's only natural to let a few details slip now and then."

"The same could apply to you, doctor. You've done more for the troops than all the other medics combined."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not! Let me tell you, field medic to field medic, what you do compared to the rest of us, is straight-up revival."

"Now you're just trying to flustrate me."

"I'm serious - Morrison the other day? Could've died, hands down. I could barely get his bleeding to stop and you just stoop in like heaven's grace and give him a pulse."

"Oh but I can't do much for him in particular, or Reyes. The program, you know. They save themselves, those two."

"Angela I'm telling you, both of those boys would be dead a hundred times over without someone to watch their backs. They're reckless and soft and you keep them alive."

"I don't know if I'd call them boys. Or soft. Reckless they are, though."

"Oh I see them up scoped in all the time in the battlefield, and let me tell you- you get a very specific kind of knowledge on someone when they're at your crosshairs. They're soft."

"They're tough, Captain. Very much so. I often wonder what I'd do if they couldn't heal themselves that much."

"Oh, doc. You work miracles. What about that dead boy they brought in all that time ago? I hear he's striving, isn't he?"

"He has something keeping him alive too. I don't know what it is, but I think it bit me when I first tried to tie his wounds."

"It bit you?"

"I don't know. I'm so tired. But I have to save him, Ana. He didn't deserve what happened to him. And... goodness, Ana, I messed up. I swear he could've died right here on that bed if it weren't for that thing. I left his spine exposed so long."

"Hey, hey now. Calm down. Take a deep breath, there you go. You're doing very good. Very good. What's his name?"

"I try not to say his last name. After what happened, he probably doesn't want to hear from his family."

"His family?"

"His own brother did it."

"How horrid. I can't imagine what that could feel like, you know how much I value family. Poor boy."

"I know. That's why I have to save him, Captain. I have to. The world owes him that much."

You never asked to be saved. Maybe all you wanted was a clean death. Maybe you shouldn't have ran from Hanzo. Maybe then you wouldn't agonize over every breath.

 

The first time you sit up, your only thought is _everything feels wrong._

You're too light and too strong, and moving makes everything hurt, and you somehow manage to feel pain in parts of you that don't exist anymore.

"Phantom pain", Mercy says as she sits you up. "Many amputees get it. Your nerve receptors are still there, but the electricity runs through them incorrectly, so your brain receives wrong signals of pain. It should even out, eventually."

You breathe fire in your lungs. "How long has it been since I died?"

Mercy looks at you for a moment before she realizes what you mean. "It'll be fourteen months soon."

It's been over a damn year and you don't even have a week's worth of conscience at that time.

"Lie me back down."

You don't know how she responds because you pass out right after.

 

Upon insistence, Mercy puts a screenframe on a desk not far from your bed at an angle visible to you. It displays the time and date, and the weather. It's always below freezing outside and you fear finding out where you are.

You've been moved to a different room. This one has two more beds, but you've never seen patients on them. Mercy sometimes sleeps on one if she has too much work to go home.

"It's not actually that far", she says one day. "The dorms are just in the next building."

"Dorms?"

"You're at a Watchpoint, Mr. Genji. It's a base of operations. Of course there are rooms for the agents."

You figure your previous room was an emergency room, and was needed for someone else. That means they think you're stable enough that you won't die on them in the middle of the night.

A few nurses come in with Mercy sometimes. Never more than two at once, and always a ways from your bed.

You learn to sit up on your own. Movement is absurd and you have little to no fine mobility. Your fingers can't move seperately, your thumbs have the movement range of a grand half centimetre.

Mercy gives you a handheld game. "It'll take some time."

 

It actually takes very little time. You only have the game for a week before you get enough motors to beat the final level.

 

You wake up and one of the nurses is there. Mercy isn't.

You want to say that training for quick thinking your entire life made you immune to panic, but you also have about 38% of your bones left so you figure you're justified to do just that.

"Where's Mercy?"

The nurse doesn't speak English.

"Mercy?" you repeat.

"Fight", the nurse says. "Doctor Mercy."

Okay so you knew she's a field medic, but that doesn't keep you from breaking in cold sweat.

The nurse leaves, eventually, and your dragon purrs in your shoulders to calm you down.

 

You're playing a different game, on a different console. Surprisingly, a fair amount of muscle memory made it through cybernization.

Mercy has her wings on nearby. She does a mix of noting your progress and considering future adjustments.

At the sound of shouting outside, you both look up.

"I'll go see what it is", she narrates herself, as she's taken habit to, around you.

She draws a curtain to shield you as she goes, but she doesn't make it far before the door bursts open.

"Angela!" It's a ruff voice. Either sick or suffering. "It's Gabe, he took a grenade-"

"Why the little-" Mercy cuts herself off. "Lie him down there, and go get someone to look at your own injuries."

"I'm fine, Gabe is-"

"Jack you will get that looked at or I will shove you off the cliff."

Heavy steps and a grumble leave.

"Gabriel, can you hear me?"

"Ssss not that bad", a different voice says. By the side of the hastily-drawn curtain you can see blood dipping off the bed next to yours. On it is someone large covered in black and red.

"How many fingers?"

"Uh two. No, three. Fuck, I don't know."

"Hold your breath." A mechanical noise, and then the man lies down. You can see a bit of his head. "What happened?"

"Grenade, sharpnel", the man says. Very focused, for his injuries. But apparently only on events. "Ya know if anyone made it?"

"I don't know. Close your eyes and hold your breath again."

You lean to look at the man's face. Mercy sparys it with a thing once, then, upon closer inspection, twice.

"Breathe. Tell me if this hurts." She cleans the blood off his face. You see two large gashes and you wince.

"It always hurts, doc, I dunno why you keep asking."

Fuck, you can see bone through his cheek when he talks.

"Were you exposed to any chemicals?"

"Not, that I know of, uhh. I might. Be about to pass out, maybe."

"Feel free."

"Isn't there another here?"

"It's fine."

The man closes his eyes. Mercy finishes her work and sits back in her chair like nothing ever happened.

 

The ruff voice who brought in the bleeding man returns a few hours later.

"Hey", he says.

"Hey", says the bleeding man. He's stopped bleeding. You have to find something else to refer to him as.

"Hello", Mercy interjects. "Did you get looked at?"

"Yeah."

"How's the squad", your co-patient asks. "All alive?"

"Alive and well. You really got them."

"Of course I do", he scoffs. "How're they injured?"

Not 'if'. You take a note.

"Erikson has a broken arm, should be healed in a month or two. The rest have bruises at worst."

The man frowns. "That it?"

"Yeah. Not so bad."

He frowns deeper, winces when it pulls at his injuries.

The other man and the angel exchange a confused look, which you empathise with. That was a perfectly good report. Why the frown?

"Okay, that's that injury-wise. How are they doing, though?"

More confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Fuck. This is why they send my troops down. How are they? It's a pretty simple question, come on!"

Oh.

"They're fine, Gabe. Don't you trust me?"

Gabe smirks. The angel politely coughs.

_Oh._

Leaders, the both of them, except one leads people and the other thinks he leads soldiers like himself. True and False. Huh.

You wonder what exact position they hold that lets one of them understand and support individuality while the other stands on orders and resources.

In fact, that was such a complex thought that you black out.

 

It's supposed to be a Monday when Mercy first tries to stand you up. You get vertigo.

"I can't. It's all wrong, I can't", complain, you can't complain when she's saving your life, but here you stil are, "My limbs are too light, I feel like a ghost."

"I understand", she says, adjusts her grip under your armpit so your shirt doesn't slip you through her hand. "Your body is still very moldable. If you have any recommendations, tell me and I'll do my best to fit them."

"I'm too light."

"Yes, I was going to add armor over the parts you have now. It should be more suitable for combat."

Like a soldier like a soldier like a soldier. "Armor?"

"Yes. It might be difficult to find clothes to fit over it, though."

"Why would I wear clothes?"

She smiles. "Yeah, I see why you wouldn't be one for modesty right now. It's your choice."

The clothes are, not the armor. "Okay."

"You are also missing quite a few systems - none made it, as I've told you, but your respiratory is your most complete one, second only to nervous."

"I- it is?"

"Yes. It sounds absurd, I know, considering your diaphragm, trachea and a bit of your right lung are gone, but compared to everything else, it's nearly intact."

She guides you to take a step.

"Which systems would you like me to model after humans, and which after omnics?"

You trip and wish you'd break your neck on the floor and die, but she's holding you steady and strong. "Omnics!?"

"Yes. I could, theoretically, make it so you never need to eat again. Or sleep, depending by the repairs on your brain. "

You're a fucking experiment to her. A project. Just to see if she can play God and get away with it.

"I'd- I'd like to eat. How are you feeding me now?"

"Glucose. Your systems produce it by themselves. I could add proteins and vitamins, or I could add a digestive system so you may eat. The glucose can and will sustain you perfectly fine, but I thought you might want to eat sometimes. I've drafted a few designs."

"I", is all you can say, through the disgust and the vertigo. You take another step. "Can I taste?"

"Somewhat. I've done my best to restore all your senses but I haven't had the chance to test taste or smell yet. Touch could use a bit more testing as well."

She takes you back to the bed.

"I want to eat", you say, "And sleep, and have my senses."

"Of course. But, ah, a few rather awkward details, before the sedative takes action? Do you want a reproductive system?"

You frown very, very deep. "It's not required for my survival."

"Hence why I need to ask you. I won't trouble with it if you don't want it, and I'll do my best if you do."

"I don't care either way."

"I'll draft it, then, and in the meantime you can think about it. Second - do you want your sense of pain?"

"Isn't it part of touch?"

"I've equipped you with pressure and temprature sensors. Pain is rather difficult to replicate, and a bit unnecassary. Do you want it?"

Your dragon gives a single twitch.

"No, that's fine."

"Very well, last one - the medical mask you have right now is very fragile and unsupported. Again, great for a bed, horrible for anything else. You can't breathe properly if you take it off, and can't eat while it's on. Do you want me to make you a new one? I was thinking something with sufficient filtering that can be removed for a few hours at a time, given the right environment."

"How will it work?"

"It'll cover your entire face and click shut with the rest of your parts on your head so you will not be exposed at all. Its filter will ensure the air you breathe won't damage the artificial parts of your respiratory system, as well as keep your organic parts at peak condition."

Like a soldier like a soldier like a soldier, at least you'll live long enough to eat again. "Sure."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll upload these pretty quickly, but in the meantime, me n my sister need new glasses, so if any of you guys could leave me a tip [ here ](https://ko-fi.com/A726AD0), that'd be swell, thank you


	3. Overwatch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birth to me!

You see Leader Truth again, back to get his stitches looked at. By a nurse. Mercy is, as it happens, absent.

The moment the nurse turns around, True looks straight at you. He smiles. No, he smirks, that's the word for it. He splays a hand open in greeting. It looks like he's about to grab something, or like he's dropping something. So absurd.

You mimic it. He smiles more, showing his teeth.

Now, you know people tend to show their teeth when they smile. You do it too, sometimes. But on this man it only serves to exaggerate his canines. It's... a challenge, almost, that he's threatening when happy.

The nurse turns back around, and True's sight is already fixed that way.

None the wiser.

He asks that the nurse leave, after he gets bandaged up properly, and the nurse does without question. He turns back at you.

"Hey", he says.

"Hello."

He smiles again, stands to walk closer. Not close enough to touch, and you can tell he's trying not to tower over you, but really, a guy that big could make anyone feel small. Especially someone lying down in a hospital bed in clothes that aren't yous, limbs that aren't real, brain drugged up on painkillers.

Yet you're still in pain, hah.

"I'm Gabriel Reyes", True says, and you already know you'll forget.

"Shimada Genji."

"I know. I was my unit that got you out of there alive. Or, well. Sort of. You weren't breathing for a solid fifty hours, kid. Still had a heartbeat though."

You swallow. "I- you did? Why?"

He frowns. "You want to die, kid?"

You look off to the side.

"Listen, I know I robbed you of a clean death - blame me and not my unit - but if that's all you ever wanted, I'd feel pretty shitty about that. If you got even a bit of gratitude give it to Angela, she did way more than I could."

You're so glad her name matches her image otherwise you'd have no idea what he's talking about. "How did you keep me alive, then? Was she there?"

"Oh no. We put out two months' worth of bionics just to keep you together. It wasn't nearly enough. Not even field medics can help with some things. Sometimes you just need an actual doctor."

"Aren't- aren't all field medics doctors?"

"No, course not. Doctors don't do shit in battle. 'S why Angela made the damn Valkyrie suit, you know?"

No, you don't, but you don't say that.

"So why - why waste the effort on me?" He opens his mouth but you speak over him. "What do you want?"

He brings a hand up, scratches the side of his jaw. "Look, kid, what I'm asking is pretty fucking huge. I know I'd never choose it, but you're not me." He pauses, screwing his face to one side. He doesn't break eye contact. "Actually - do you even know what happened to you?"

Your dragon hisses. You remember the twins' faces when they realized they wouldn't be deflected in time. "Yes."

"You sure?"

"I think I'd remember my own murder."

His face unscrews. So deliberate. "You know why it happened?"

"I believe it is not at all your business to stick your nose in this case. And it's rude to talk about someone's murder when they're right here."

"I mean, you know your clan told him to do it?"

You blink. "They wouldn't."

True watches the realization settle on your face, then the breakdown that follows.

That is to say, he just looks at you while you stay perfectly still, eyes drifting progressively downwards.

"Wouldn't they?" he says finally. "He'd do it on his own?"

"No", you say. Your dragon comes to nest under your lungs. You breathe.

True tilts his head to one side. "How're you feeling?"

"Weak", you blurt out, "angry. Tired."

"Angry at whom?"

"Everyone. Myself. The universe, I dunno."

He tilts his head to the other side. "Yourself?"

"When I say everyone, I include Mercy. And I don't really have the right to be angry at her, do I?"

Honestly you don't know where you're going with this. A coma? A beating? Assisted suicide?

"Why not?" he says.

"She saved my life. She's- she's still saving my life."

"Are you angry at her for doing that?"

You turn to the side again.

"Or are you angry she never asked you if you wanted her to?"

You press your mouth in a line. Your lips hurt each other, don't fit quite well.

When he doesn't get an answer, he sighs. "How do you feel about revenge, kid?"

You turn to him. "On Mercy?"

"On your clan."

Your dragon carefully dissipates. "No."

"No?"

"I'm not going after them. I will not, if that's what you're worried about, they're safe. You couldn't pay me to seek them out at this point."

He hums. You think he might know how to sing. "We want to disband the organization of your clan. We ask for your help. And that's why I got you out alive. I won't take it personally if you hate me, but I'll be surprised and delighted if you agree to help."

You don't have enough muscle strength on your face to make the face you want to make.

"Don't say anything", he continues. "Rest. I'm patient." He splays a hand open again as he turns around. "Have a good one."

You don't get that last part.

 

Mercy comes and goes, nurses and patients fill in and out of your room. You catch some awake, some too drugged for conversation and one in particular as they're carried out in a body bag.

Your body gets modified to fit you better, you get a mask, the mask gets modified to fit you better, the two get modified to fit each other better.

You get armor and clothes - sweatpants and jackets, and two standard Overwatch uniforms.

You're too light, too strong, breathing hurts and you dragon appears at leisure.

 

You're doing sit-ups on your bed when a kid appears out of the blue.

Literally out of the blue.

You see a blue flash to your right and there's a girl when you look. She can't be older than sixteen and she's absolutely horrified. The drugs you're on right now must be harder than you thought; she's fuzzy around the edges.

She seems to recognize the medbay.

"Where's Mercy?" she asks so fast you almost miss it.

"Who are you?" you ask at an acceptable pace while slamming the nurse button discreetly.

"You don't know me", she gasps, "you don't know me, you don't know me, oh my God, where am I, how long has it been, _please, where's Mercy--"_

She's trembling. You'd hug her, before, but as you are now, you're disgusted at the thought of physical comfort.

Mercy swoops in right at that moment.

"Lena!"

"Angela!" The girl breaks into tears.

"Lena, it's okay, here, hold this-" Mercy says, tossing a device at the kid, who catches it with shaking hands.

She holds it tight on her chest. "Where are we, how long has it been, don't let me slip back-"

Angela screams some things down the hall and moves to envelop the girl in a hug. "Swiss HQ, five weeks, I've got you."

The girl's edges become slowly defined as she cries in Angel's arms.

A guy walks in, different device in his hand. "Here", he says, "try this one."

The girl switches devices with the guy and disappears just as she appeared. The device drops to the floor.

Mercy truns to the guy with thunder in her eyes.

"As a fellow scientist", she begins, "I understand some experiments fail - as a doctor I implore you to keep in mind your subjects are humans you _absolutely need to help._ "

You think it might be rude to point out the hypocrisy when she's roasting someone. After all, she did help more than him.

 

Leader False is the one who takes you walking around the base. He shows you training grounds and leisure rooms and quarters, and a room that's supposed to be yours after you're stable enough to live on your own.

You pass Leader True a few times, and a woman with a voice you remember hearing in the bay. There's another woman next to her, and they look exactly the same - except the former is smaller than you and the latter is tall as Leaders.

That's kinda weird, you figure - maybe it's just a very common height in the west.

The smaller woman waves you over so you follow False to her.

"Evening, Commander", she says with a casual salute.

"Evening, Captain", False says with an all-too-formal salute and a straight back. (Though you figure a man his size isn't very flexible; not by your standards, at least.) "And to you, Fareeha", he nods to the other woman.

She nods back. Doesn't talk.

The first woman offers you her hand. "And you must be Genji", she says. "Pleasure to meet you."

Her hand is scrappy and the back of it is bruised and you's bet real money the victim of her punches looks way worse.

You give her a warrior's salute before you take her hand. "And you are?"

"My name is Ana", she smiles. "This is my daughter."

The daughter looks at you shyly. She forces a smile. "Fareeha. Hello."

She doesn't offer to shake hands, doesn't force contact with you. You smile and hope it shows in your voice. "Hello!"

Later you try to remember when you last smiled but the last month before your death was a blur. You can't be sure.

 

Mercy equips you with shuriken, following the mechanism of your old loading glove under your instruction. You accept to help them.

Leaders are delighted. Ana only pats you on the back.

 

The girl reappears in your room for a few seconds during which she screams for help. Not twenty minutes later she's back and you shove Mercy's device in her hands before you collectively scream for help.

They take the girl away, and as she walks out she trips over her inability to keep form to her legs.

She straightens fast.

 

The room they give you has three sets of double bunks. They're all empty. There are no windows but the ventilation system has a plethora of settings which don't affect you at all.

True lets you know his own room is just at the end of the hall, and that you can holler whenever you need anything.

He tells you his name and, again, you forget.

 

It takes Mercy about two weeks of careful work to manage the neurons of your brain so you remember new and pointless things like names. In fact she fixes you up with a notepad you can display in your visor, or something of the like - it's more of a memory bottle than anything else. She had trouble explaining and experiencing it is absurd.

Sometime during your second-to-last day of those two weeks, True and an agent with matching uniform drag in a third agent.

Mercy flips her shit. "What happened!"

"Shit happened", True says.

Mercy pays him no mind, yells for surgery, medics rush in to carry the third agent on a rolling bed.

It's not until he's half out of view that you realize something was very, very wrong with his arm.

The second agent collapses on a chair, blood and sweat covering her in generous doses. True looks over, walks to her and crouches in front of her seat.

You don't hear what they say, but a few minutes later they both stand up and the agent seems to breathe properly. She salutes, offers a goodnight. She half-turns, reconsiders, hugs True with vigor and finally leaves with a weak smile.

True stands for a bit before he himself chooses a bed to collapse on.

He taps a finger on the framing so you know he's not asleep.

"What's your name?" you ask.

"Gabriel Reyes."

"I apologize for asking again. Hopefully I'll remember this time."

He doesn't answer.

"That agent you brought in..."

"Yeah?"

"What happened to him?"

"Look kid, you don't want to know."

You frown. Your mask is off so you're disappointed he doesn't look. "Most of him was still there, which is more than can be said for me. I think I can handle it."

"Let me put it differently, I don't want to tell you."

"Oh. Why not?"

"I'll have to do a report anyway, I'd rather not retell it more times than I need."

You ponder for a moment. "Was it an accident?"

"No. No it was very much on purpose."

 

Mercy never tells you about it, of course. You have to draw conclusions by watching the agent when he's roomed with you in the medbay.

Most of is left hand is missing and what's left has been carefully bandaged.

 

Mercy officially declares you discharged from her care mid-November. One and a half year isn't that bad a time, huh?

What do we say to the God of Death?

Leader Truth - Reyes Reyes Reyes - is the first to get you working on what you promised. You give intel and advice and some Overwatch troops act under False's command. Morrison, Morrison's command.

They all come back empty-handed.

Mission compromised, agents too injured, risks too high, lives lost. Two years is a lot of time for things to change, and it's not like you ever paid attention to the details of the clan's work. The agents tell you what they see and are incapable of seeing enough to answer your follow-up questions.

You try to explain to the Leaders how you could identify Shimada's new techniques with a glance when their agents have trouble completing simple intel missions.

Your wording has less sass, of course. The last thing you need is to be chucked out.

Leaders get you underlying cheekiness and take it as a jab at their troops. Or, that's what you think happens until Reyes says,

"Fine, maybe I'll sent _mine_ in and see just how difficult those missions are."

And you're confused. You think they hold equal ranks, but the way they distinguish their troops is like they're different countries.

 

Reyes' troops complete three missions with only five agents incapacitated. Even more surprising, all five of them will be cleared for combat again after six months at latest.

Your clan's gone to shit, or Reyes' troops are just that good.

Still, he's not satisfied.

 

You run into the handless agent you'd roomed with. You're grabbing a juice and he's eating a sandwich.

"Never seen you around", he says. He has a metal hand on, though it's blocky and ugly. "You new?"

"Yes", you say, and turn to leave.

"You know", he raises his voice, "you're not supposed to take things from the fridge if you don't need them. Unless you pay for them, I guess, but nobody does that."

You turn your head just enough to see him. Contrary to popular belief, your visor doesn't limit your field of vision. The opposite; you have a splendid 195 degrees to most people's almost-180. "Maybe I'm just thirsty."

You can almost hear the click in his head. He makes a gesture like grabbing a hat. "Ah. Gotcha. Have a good one."

You turn more. "What does that mean?"

"Uh?"

"That, 'have a good one'. I've heard it before but, I don't know what it means. I know it's like a blessing? What is it?"

"Oh. It means have a good day, or evening, or night, you know. It's just great to use at any time of day."

You turn back to leave. "I see. That makes sense. Thank you and, have a good one."

"You too."

 

The disappearing girl's name is Lena and she runs around a lot. She's small, thin, and fragile, but you guess you look that way too, right now.

She has a device strapped to her chest at all times, but that's not the most absurd thing. It's the honest-to-God gorilla that made the device.

His name's Winston. He's from the moon. He's actually pleasant company, if Lena's to be believed; you don't really keep any company at all.

 

Another agent that keeps Lena company is one you actually mistook for a wall. Honest mistake. In your defense, there are some doors Reinhardt can't pass through.

He makes Lena look even smaller. You make a point of staying a respectable distance from him.

 

There's an armory you're supposed to visit for anything you need on your armor, or any other part of you that doesn't keep you alive. Or is connected to your brain.

So, armor and plating issues.

You're actually in clothes when you walk in to find Mercy, Ana and some third agent all hunched together over a table. Mercy has her suit on, bulky and square and used to it enough that it's only slightly displeasing.

"But if you remove the boosters--"

"--Then you won't fly, Angela, you'll fall."

"It's a fast-response, slowing the fall is all it'd need!"

"What if nobody's around, huh?"

"What kind of stupid medic goes out alone--"

"--Plenty, I assure you--"

"But it's too heavy as it is--"

You try to clear your throat. You don't have a throat. You give a polite "Ahem" instead.

Mercy's head shoots up and turns to look at you. "Oh!" she goes, covering her mouth. "Is it time already?"

"I'm a bit early", you shove your hands in your pockets, "I apologize if that's trouble."

"Nonsense", Mercy waves a hand. "We're just brainstorming."

The agent you don't know huffs. "More like slamming our heads against the same wall repeatedly! Leave the rockets, I tell you!"

Mercy crosses her arms. "They're unecessary and dirsuptive."

"I disagree."

Ana fixes you with a smile. "What do you think, Genji? Our problem is that Angela's Valkyrie suit is too heavy, but can't be lighter if it has to maintain flight. Any ideas?"

You walk closer to the table. It's covered in blueprints, sketches, messy notes and half-doodled paper. You look at Mercy's suit.

Nope, still huge and uncomfortable.

"Isn't it a bit too large? Why would a medic need that much armor?"

"It's based on and inspired by a number of military flight suits", Mercy says, "and I'll have you know this is very little armor compared to the original designs."

"Well I can't see how you'll need it", you say, then make yourself small so they don't lash out on you. "You're a medic. You're not supposed to be in battle. Maybe have a chestplate or something, but the rest is kind of pointless."

"Sure", the agent says, "But if she removes the armor, the wings will be unsupported and unable to hold their own weight, much less lift her up."

"Why are the wings so big?"

The agent frowns. "That's standard for Angela's weight and height."

"But it's fast-response", Mercy insists. "I don't need to take flight on my own. I just need a way to not crash."

"Parachute", you offer.

"Pardon?"

"Parachute. Or something like that. You only need to slow the fall, right?"

"A parachute couldn't hold the armor's weight."

"No need to have the armor", Ana pipes in. "If you use light armor, instead of heavy-combat, you can make hard-light wings that disappear at rest and open in use."

"Hard-light", Mercy goes. "You want me to learn how to build hard-light."

"It could work", the agent says. "It's light and can spread basically infinite. Parachute wings."

Mercy shoots him a look. "What happened to your love for armor, Torbjörn?"

"You didn't want it before, now you want it? Make up your mind, kvinna!"

"Let's not argue over it", Ana says, a smile thrown your way, "Thank you, Genji, you really helped. Now, what are you here for?"

Oh yeah, you almost forgot. "It's kind of silly and pointless."

"Everything usually is", Torbjörn says, jolting down in the spaces between doodles.

"It's purely aesthetic. Well, sorta. It's a little bit symbolic?"

"Spit it out", Mercy prompts.

"Can I have a ribbon, of some sort, or a scarf? I just need something fluttering to be near my head."

"How is that in any way symbolic?" Ana asks.

You shuffle your feet. "I can't tell you."

Her eyebrows slowly rise up.

"That's actually pretty easy, what the hell", Mercy says. "I thought you'd want to change color or something, don't scare me like that. I can just attach it right now if you want."

 

Your dragon preens at your ribbon. It's like a ponytail, the very thing you'd promised yourself you'd never wear. Your dragon laughs. You mentally give it the bird.

 

Christmas finds you in a medical wing you hadn't been before, a common one. Five people have gotten in and gotten discharged in the time it took a nurse to find the pieces required to replace the broken paneling on your left arm.

Reyes barges in, followed closely by a woman that looks like him and the handless agent. They're all wearing civvies, santa hats, and carrying brown bags over their shoulders.

"Merry Christmas, you little shits!" Reyes hollers, swinging his bag forward to shove a hand inside. "Get your holiday on, who wants a hat?"

The three indeed give out hats to match their own. It's the handless agent that comes to your side of the room. He's wearing a different hat under his santa one, brown and wide-brimmed.

"It's you again", he says when he hands you a hat. "How come I never see you, friend?"

"I don't make much use of the common rooms."

"Fair enough", he shrugs. "You got a name?"

"It's Genji", you frown.

"Jesse, pleasure." He tips his lower hat with his left hand. It's not entirely metal, you note; it's like it was cut at a diagonal line stretching between the base of his thumb and that of his pinky. If not for the ugly scarring that disappears under the sleeve, you'd be eager to blame the doctors for cutting it clean themselves.

He notices you staring. "Eh, I know it ain't pretty, buddy, but maybe tone it down a little. No room to judge, right?"

"Excuse you?"

He gestures downwards with his chin. Who gestures with their chin? "We match."

It takes you a moment to realize he's talking about your busted forearm. "Mine is fixable."

"Mine is already fixed", he grins, twirls his fingers in greeting.

The nurse fiddling with your panels and a cheat sheet accepts a hat and shoves it on her head before she calls out, "Miss Reyes! A word, please, if you have the time?"

The woman that looks like Reyes walks over, and you can't, in all honestly, place her age. Is she Reyes' daughter? Sister? Cousin? 'Miss' means she's not his wife, right? Can't be his mother.

You don't know Reyes' age either. What the hell.

He must be around Morrison's age, you figure, and that guy is pretty old.

"Miss Reyes, listen, I know we kinda bend the rules around the holidays, but" the nurse sighs, rubs her temple, "we really really aren't built to house civillians. If something happens the Commander might not be able to help you. Just- you know where to find me, right?"

"Sure", miss Reyes says, "You don't have to give me the same talk every year."

"I'll stop when you stop coming every year."

 

There's a clearly-civilian woman in one of the kitchens for a lot of the time between Christmas and New Year's. She puts on music and swings her hips while she cooks, and isn't that the most housewife thing you've ever witnessed.

A man often comes and dances with her, you've seen him around. He might work at comms, you think. The two of them have matching rings and they like being mushy in front of others, but not dirty. They kiss each other's hands or foreheads, shoulders, maybe even a cheek if the mood is right, but you've honest-to-God never seen them kiss on the mouth.

The man has lipstick smudged on his face and neck sometimes, but you've never caught them in the act, which is a surprise for the amount of PDA they're committing.

They're such a cute couple. Rumor has it they're relationship goals for the entirety of Overwatch. Gotta get like Lacroix, they often say.

 

There's this team they put you in, Blackwatch, that's apparently pretty huge, pretty effective, and _pretty invisible_. Reyes leads it, and that explains how his rank is equal to Morrison's.

The first time you try to run around the track, you have to stop and vomit void, pretty much, you don't have a digestive system to actually throw up.

The second time, you keep tripping over your moving balance, new body fighting you every second.

Third time, you can run in a line. Turns find you face-first on the floor.

Fourth time, you're stopped before you try and Reyes puts you in a spar match with an agent about your size. She takes on a stance you're not familiar with and throws you over on the first try.

You lose count after that, until target practice happens, and you're encouraged to use a gun. The recoil is so bad you feel your elbow snap as a warning lights in your HUD. Before you can adjust your grip to try again, you're given a lighter gun. It's like they're _trying_ to keep you from getting used to your body. You miscalculate and this time you actually _hear_ your elbow clicking out of place. Reyes hands you a shotgun; you chuck it back at him and throw two sets of shuriken at the targets.

Reyes' eyebrows lift off of their usual scowl. Somewhere to your left Jesse whistles.

You make yourself small, fidget your hands, hope they won't put you back in the medbay for tossing a heavy weapon at a superior.

You get the rest of he day off and lots of pats on the back. You're uncomfortable at the touch, but their intentions feel good.

 

You're confident in your knowledge of this new body for less than two days before you're sent out on an intel mission against the clan. Reyes leads the only squad to go and you're kinda late to realize you wouldn't be able to follow anyone else's leadership. This one is hard enough.

Jesse is back at base with a cracked rib, which is a shame.

The mission runs slow, the summer heat tires the agents, you don't get what you went out for, you take out three people and pretty much everyone in the squad has some sort of injury.

Back at base, Reyes reviews with you personally. You take the chance and release all your cheekiness in telling him the squad's mistakes.

He leans back when you're done. Crosses his arms.

"No, you're right", he says. "We're not used to dealing with such targets - we don't know how to, not as a team. Some might know individually, but in whole we're fucked."

"That's one way to put it", you lean your head on shoulder. Something got messed at your shoulderblade and you haven't mentioned it yet. Reports should be more important, right?

"So what do you suggest?" He uncrosses his arms and shrugs. "I see two options, tell me if you see a third. One- you go in alone, since you know what you're dealing with. Two- you tell us what we're dealing with, and try to get us to work accordingly. You got a third?"

 _(We leave the family alone and run the fuck away)_ , your dragon offers.

"No, I don't."

 

You're just going to Mercy's medbay for a monthly upkeep, and she's tense as hell. She's looking blankly at the board over her desk, filled with notes on paper. She's fiddling with her pen.

"Dr. Zeigler?"

She jumps in her skin, blinks, and turns to you slowly. "Oh", she goes, "Yes? How can I help you, Genji?"

"The monthly upkeep?" You tilt your head. "Is something the matter?"

Here's the thing, you've never seen her display emotion in this room. Frustration, maybe, at best. So when she breaks into tears you're scared for your life.

She tries to talk but she can't quite breathe in enough. She also may be speaking German.

"I don't understand." You take a step back. "Doctor, please, take a breath. What's wrong?"

Worse than her crying is that it's completely silent, and you've always hated silence, so here's one more reason to do that.

"Can I help somehow?"

She shakes her head, rubs her eyes, nods. She hugs herself and looks at you like she's sorry.

"I- I can't", you say, stepping even further away, putting your hands in front of you for fear she might go ahead and hug you anyway. "Who do I- isn't there anything else?"

She breathes. She pulls her feet up on her chair to hug her knees. "I don't want them to know."

"Know what?" you say, dragging a chair to sit opposite her.

She waves a hand. "This. I'm- nobody here has ever seen me- I'm supposed to be emotionally strong, or detached. Like a doctor." She hides her face in her knees. "Nobody's ever seen me break down."

"Are you breaking down now?"

"No, not even close." She lifts her head, wipes her face with a sleeve. "Captain Ana Amari is gone."

You blink a few times. "Gone how?"

"She was left behind on the last mission, and there was a sniper on her when we last heard from her--" she shakes her head, covers her face. "We don't send search parties. Not under those conditions. Not even for the second-in-command. If she's not dead she will be soon, injured and alone on enemy ground."

"Wasn't- wasn't Commander Morrison on the last mission?"

"He was", she cries. "He tried."

 

Mercy shooes you away after a while. You wander for a bit, and wonder if you'll ever see Fareeha again, now that her mother won't be dragging her to work.

After all, she's the only person who's managed to make you smile in your three years here.

Has it been that long? It's almost four years.

You spot a familiar cowboy hat over a couch back and you sit next to Jesse.

"I just heard", you say.

He hums. His hat is over his eyes.

You lean back on the couch. He puts his head on your shoulder. And that... that feels wrong, but you can deal with your own disgust in silence if it eases a friend's mourning.

Did Hanzo mourn you?

Jesse's head ends up in your lap and his hat on your head and you take to braiding his hair. He really should cut it. You're on your sixth braid when Commander Reyes walks in the room.

He takes one look at the scene, sighs, then lies down over Jesse.

Five hours later you're still stuck on that couch, except now you have a third of the Overwatch personel napping around you.

Is this common western mourning practice or is it just Overwatch?

Actually, on second thought, you only spot one Overwatch agent. The rest are Blackwatch.

 

It's two days later that you revisit the one important thought you made during that mass mourning - did Hanzo ever mourn you?

You ask to be sent out on your own. Reyes lets you, congratulates you on your strength, admits that neither his agents nor him could perform well in a fight as they are. Ana was widely loved, he says.

In return you admit you didn't know her well, weren't very attached to her.

 

You avert your eyes when you see Reinhardt or Torbjörn. You stare at Morrison, but he remains neutral. Reyes and Jesse, you work with, you can't avoid them. You don't see Fareeha again.

 

The Shimada castle is empty. The guards are sparse and easy for you to pass through. You have to stop inside the first building and make sure you're not hallucinating.

There's a memorial for you. Your sword is there.

Your old sword, which your dragon barely recognises.

You slip in the castle, get some info to call it a mission, stick around in the shadows to figure who's doing what. There are few people. You've never seen the castle this empty.

Hanzo isn't there.

 

You find another excuse to go to Hanamura alone on Children's Day.

There are more guards and you can't see why the gates are closed until a figure climbs over them.

Hanzo drops to the floor, takes out the guards, and runs inside.

There are another couple of guards in front of your memorial, and they're an actual challenge. The scroll gets cut a bit. Hanzo's blood ends up decorating the calligraphy.

He's furious.

He drags the bodies out in the cold and you watch as he places incense and rice in front of your sword, along with a single sparrow feather.

You feel sick. Like the first time you tried to run in this body, you want to throw up something that's not there.

You spill the truth when you go back.

 

Switching Watchpoints every few months is pretty common and it just now hits you that you've only ever been at Gibraltar and Swiss HQ. Hell, the only reason it does hit you is because Reinhardt actually offers a good listening ear, and he's always at Gibraltar. It's late summer when you get to talk with him.

"I just don't understand", you say through the stomach-churning that comes with talking about Hanzo. "It's like he was honoring a deceased ancestor. People don't go out of their way to offer incense to their murder victims."

"What about their brothers?"

You frown behind your mask. "Yes, but. He's the reason I died, he can't feel sorry."

Reinhardt sighs. He runs a hand through his hair. "You might be seeing this wrong, friend. Do you think Jack is sorry for Ana?"

"It's not the same."

"It isn't, but Jack still blames himself. Does that mean he can't be sorry?"

You look down. "No. I'm so tired."

Reinhardt puts a giant hand on your back. "It's okay. We all are."

 

The next year, you watch Hanzo fight his way through more guards, but this time no one dares oppose him in front of your memorial.

 

You don't get many missions unrelated to the Shimada, but you're on one of them right now when you get cornered away from your squad. You were supposed to guard the flanks, and you comm'd the squad when you saw an enemy team going in behind them, but that gave away your position, so the team turned on you.

There's maybe seven of them, they're aiming at you already, your squad is about five minutes away.

You pull your shortsword out to defend but one of the enemy tackles you to the ground and kicks the sword away.

Your dragon appears between your lungs and the team crowds over you while you contemplate.

See, you have a streak going on. Nobody's seen your dragon and lived to tell the tale in the past five years. Nine years, excluding Mercy.

You call your dragon out through the sword at your back and keep your streak.

You count seven dead on the floor. You still have the feeling someone's there, that you're being watched. You turn your head to the right.

"Come out", you say.

Reyes pokes his head up behind a crate. Jesse peeks between the crate and his hat.

Well. There goes your streak.

"Come out", you repeat. English isn't working well for you right now. "They're gone now."

"Genji?" Jesse goes, pulling himself up higher. "Genji, buddy. It's me, can you hear me? It's Jesse."

You'd laugh, but that's another streak you refuse to break. "I know. I don't change because of this."

" _This_ happens often?" Reyes says, standing up despite Jesse and at least two more agents tugging at his clothes to sit him back down.

"No. Not anymore."

"Did it use to?"

You figure it's wise not to answer; your dragon agrees. You let it slip out of your blade and coil around your waist and shoulders as you seath your sword.

Reyes and Jesse follow the spirit's movement, watch it dance on you.

"Why are you scared?" you voice the dragon's question.

"Hell", Jesse goes, "it's not every day I figure my friend is a murder weapon."

The dragon hisses and dissipates. Jesse ducks behind the crate.

"I'm not the weapon he's trying to make me into", you point at Reyes. "I know how to murder, yes. I've murdered before. So have you. So has he. I'm a _person_ , not a weapon."

You stare right at Reyes, knowing he's one of the few who can read you with your mask on. "I refuse to be."

 

The Shimada-based organization is in literal shreds when you leave Overwatch. You leave a note to Jesse, one to Mercy and one to Reyes saying you weren't kidnapped, and that's it. You take your comm with you but you deactivate it as soon as you leave Gibraltar.

You pass as an Omnic in Scandinavian countries for a few months, pass through Russia for a bit. You catch a plane to Canada, then a ship to Japan because it's spring again.

Hanzo fights his way in, offers incense and prayer, and runs away.

You go back to Canada. You pick a fight with the wrong people and take the first plane to Asia you find, end up in Philippines. By autumn you're in Nepal.

 


	4. Zenyatta

A funny little shop, this is. It's a literal hole in a big, big wall, and its entrance is hidden well for an untrained eye.

The lady behind the counter has a metal jaw and an eyepatch, heavy scarring on her left side and a scrappy prosthetic arm.

She doesn't speak English, you don't speak Nepali, you just point at a dish on the menu and offer a few bills. She nods and starts on your order. There aren't any tables, just a series of chairs lined at the counter, so you sit there while you wait.

When she comes back, she asks a question before she remembers you don't speak the same language.

"Omnic", she says, then makes an eating motion with her hand.

"No omnic", you say. You take off your mask to show her your own metal jaw.

She stares in awe, whistles. Bows and gives you the food.

 

You find some parts for your busted knee in a metal repair shop. Nepal is full of those. You figure the Shambali must attract other omnics. Maybe humans with enough prosthetics to question their humanity.

That thought gets a snort out of you, and your no-laugh streak breaks.

 

You're about to get going for India, maybe catch a ship back to Philipines, but there's some big news you catch on a holoscreen. Apparently, would you look at that, Overwatch went down in flames. You're listed as a past agent, but there weren't many who weren't human, so you stick out. Your face is out there.

The lady at the shop gives you your food for free today.

 

You could, theoretically, hike to India. You just don't know where you're going.

 

After about three days of hiking in the snow you realize you're going the wrong way and change direction. The next morning you forget you'd changed direction and continue like you hadn't, only to remember it in the early afternoon.

You go 'fuck it', turn on a signal and head towards the closest receiving unit.

It's a monastery, who cares.

An omnic greets you in Nepali, and you've picked up enough to respond in kind, with a bow to match the omnic's. You ask for shelter in English.

It takes the omnic a moment to answer, and later you'll find out it's because she was downloading the language, but right now it just looks like she's confused.

"Certainly, follow me."

You follow her to a mass meditation room. You backpedal the fuck out of there and sit outside the door. You search some Nepali words to communicate with, but you don't get far before you're interrupted.

"Hello?"

You look up, it's another omnic, this one speaks English.

"Hello."

"Are you lost?"

"No, I'm just waiting for someone", you jab a thumb over your shoulder.

The omnic looks at the door. "Why don't you join them? It must be better than sitting here alone."

"I don't really like meditating."

The omnic hums. You've never heard one do that. "Would you perhaps care to join me, then? It seems they will take a while, and walks are always better with company."

You tilt your head. "What company would that be? You don't know me."

"If you don't talk to strangers, how will you make friends?"

Fair point, you figure, but you're not really looking to make friends. You stand up. The omnic gathers his legs under him.

"My name is Zenyatta", he offers.

"Genji."

 

You walk in silence while trying to figure out how the hell Zenyatta is floating. The monastery has rock floors and there doesn't seem to be enough metal around for magnetic mechanisms to work.

"Are you sure you're not lost?" he asks.

"Well, kind of. I was trying to go south, but I think I messed up so I sent a distress signal and followed the receive here."

"Impressive", he says with a nod that somehow changes his expression. "But not what I meant. I sense trouble within you."

You groan. "Sure thing, yeah."

"You are angry."

"Everyone's a little angry."

"You seem to be denying it."

You turn to face him so sharply that your ribbon whiplashes around you, and that's the only thing you've found so far that reads as a glare to someone who can't read a mask.

He draws back, gives a little bow of his head. "I'm sorry", he says. "Did I upset you?"

"I think sitting alone might be better than this, actually."

You turn and go back to the meditation room.

 

It takes the first omnic about ten hours to get out. Ten. Hours.

She offers you a room down in the village, some cleaning supplies for your joints, a repair kit, and a listening ear. You accept most of those.

She helps you fix some loose paneling under your armor at your shoulderblade, but it takes so long she excuses herself to go back to meditation. This time she comes back after only three hours, finishes the repair, then disappears again.

You wander around. You don't get to put your leggy up on the garden, because - as luck would have it - there's a snow storm going on, so you can't get out of the village part of the monastery.

Wonderful.

Zenyatta offers a passing greeting that you return.

 

It's a long hike up the mountain to the main parts of the monastery, huge as it is, and the storm is still raging. In your room, your dragon comes out to stretch. So to speak.

 

About a week later, the only person to approach you is Zenyatta. Apparently the first omnic - whose name you still don't know - is going through some shit of her own, and needs to meditate on it. A lot.

Rumor has it her longest streak this season is 45 hours, which - ha - is still shorter than what you spent without breathing.

The monastery isn't a bad place to be, actually. The contrary - it's warm, dry, cozy, offers free food and shelter, and nobody knows you. For the first time in a long while you get to feel like you're not being judged for more than ten minutes. Twenty minutes. An hour, even, two hours.

There are two humans that seem permanent residents, a middle-aged woman and a man whose age you can't pinpoint. You think you just might be bad at that. They wear the same clothes as the omnics - though sometimes the man wears heavier clothing to counter the weather.

And, unsurprisingly, there's no one else caught between human and machine.

 

"Why do you hate meditation so?" Zenyatta says one day after sneakily falling into step with you. His sneakiness being due to his lack of step.

"What does it concern you?"

"Surely you can't be in a place as spiritual as this and refuse to acknowledge the need to think."

"Except I can. And I am."

"Fine, then. Still, could you answer me to humor my curiosity, if nothing else?"

You roll your eyes. "My family made me do it a lot and I hated it as a child because it was boring."

"So why do you hate it now?"

Because Hanzo was always perfect at it, because it's been five years and you still can't sit with your thoughts without having a depressive episode, because straight-up denial has been your best friend for a long time. "Meh."

Zenyatta hums. "Interesting. What does that mean, in this context?"

You turn to look at him, and then take a turn to the right to avoid making the 10,000 feet drop. "Is it a foreign concept to you?"

"You must understand. Understanding things that don't have a definition, such as incoherent noises, is very difficult for someone whose knowledge relies entirely on input of pre-existing information. Omnics gain experience very differently from humans. It is only through such experience that I can know what 'meh' would mean, here."

"I just wanted to express my disinterest. Or, rather, my unwillingness to answer your question. I also didn't want to use words."

"Why not?"

"You dig too much", you say, "You keep trying to talk me into deep thought. And you already know I don't like meditation."

"I meant, why didn't you want to answer my question?"

You frown. "It's personal."

"I won't judge."

"Of course not, because I won't tell you. What do you want from me?"

"I want to help you." He stops walking, so you stop too. "You're troubled. I'm a monk and a guru. I'd like to tutor you, if you'd be willing."

"Why?"

"Because you're here, and so am I. Why not?"

 

He doesn't force you to meditate, thank god, but sometimes when you sit together he just starts doing it by himself. He floats closer to the ground and his hands rest on his knees.

He doesn't force you, but you have nothing better to do anyway, and one night you just happen to hate yourself just enough.

"Excellent", Zenyatta says when you mention it. "Do you want to go right now?"

"Sure."

So he lowers himself cross-legged. "Come on then."

You kneel opposite him, hands on your knees and head down. You close your eyes.

"Is this how you meditated as a child, Genji?"

"Yes."

"It doesn't seem comfortable."

"It's not supposed to be. And anyway I don't have enough muscles to feel discomfort."

Zenyatta hums. You almost hear your father chiding you for moving and snap your eyes open, fall out of position and onto your ass.

"What's wrong?"

You shake your head. "I can't do this."

"Do you want to try it my way?"

You breathe with your dragon and take a look at Zenyatta's position. Cross-legged, hands on knees, head bowed. It's not that different.

You cross your legs like him. "What are you doing with your hands?"

"It's just something that's comfortable for me. It also helps me concentrate. Do something that fits you instead of copying me."

You look down at your crossed legs and form a small salute with one hand. You let the other drop in your lap.

You close your eyes.

 

When you were young, one of your friends had told you that you couldn't realize how many secrets you have until you spill them all. And it's a wonder you've ever made friends in your life, when you tell Zenyatta things you've never said to anyone. You tell him about your three loves and your confusion on marrying them, you tell him about falling in love with your best friend, about murdering for the clan and murdering for Overwatch, about Reyes' sharp-toothed smile and Mercy's hands and Jesse's sympathy and the Captain's daughter, the only smile you had in so, so long.

You imply about Hanzo, and it takes about seven months before you outright say what happened.

You tell about Hanzo's ritual and Hanzo's teenage stubble that he hated and Hanzo's horrible fashion sense and his bow and his dragons and the wind whipping at your face when the air glows blue.

Zenyatta has to drag you out of your own spiraling thoughts a lot during these sessions, but you only ever speak the truth.

When you disappear one night and return four days later with no explanation or excuse he doesn't push you, only asks if you're fine and if you left voluntarily. You hadn't even told him about Hanzo then. He didn't question it once.

 

You're minding your own business when you hear a booming sound. You turn your head and there it is, a huge cloud of snow stirred up by the explosion - or was it a simple collision?

You run out to check it but you don't get far before a group of people dressed for battle pop out of the snow cloud.

You don't actually know what to do. Do you have a side to take here?

But then something goes flying over your shoulder and you turn to find none other than Zenyatta himself, surrounded by glowing, floating orbs, dashing along his fists at the intruders fast enough that you can't follow them.

With shuriken lodged directly into your arms, you really have no excuse to let a monk fight alone.

He just looks very nice, setting sun reflecting off of him, the orbs, the bullets flying past your head--

Wait, no. You deflect those back. Hell, your own sword seems to catch the light differently. Is that why the monastery was built here? The setting sun looks nice on metal? That's so vain for a group of monks.

The intruders go down.

But then again, this monastery is very old, older than the existence of omnics. The Shambali simply took residence here. So who and why built something this huge at a mountainface so steep?

There's red on the snow, but not as much as it would've been, had this fight taken place a few months ago.

You aim to disarm, nor hurt.

The orbs lift themselves off the ground and fly behind you before they start flying to targets again. And -weird- you feel warm. Actually warm, not temperature-input warm, actually warm. Dead nerves fire up like there's still skin they connect to, and it's gently warmed.

You put it aside to examine later.

And, after the fight, there's too much to think, too much just happened, you're on a sensory overload and you just need one single thing to focus on. You take your visor off.

The cold bites and your eyes water up only to freeze right after. Your head clears.

You're still warm.

You freak out; you absolutely are feeling the freeze on your face and your sensors agree that the snow is indeed still there - you can't even tell what it is that feels warm anymore.

You look down, search yourself for any anomalies or damage - no. Everything's in order.

Before you can fall into actual panic, a hand lands on your shoulders and you shove it off so quickly you hear Zenyatta's wrist snap at your touch.

"Is something the matter?"

"I think something's wrong with my sensors, master. It's- it's freezing, isn't it? We're standing on snow? Are we still in Nepal?"

"Yes, of course."

"I know I know I know, but I- it's like I'm warm, master, I actually-- actually feel it." You grasp for his hurt wrist, divided between apologizing for snapping it or breaking it to keep your sanity. "I'm scared, I'm breaking, I just know it, I should've never left--"

"It is alright, my student."

"No, it's not! You don't get it - my sense of touch is the only one that didn't make it, the rest are still there, more or less! I'm not supposed to feel this, and if my sensors got fucked enough to--"

"Genji."

"This is a stupid-ass way to die." You give up on his arm, grab his shoulders for support instead. "I lived through literal murder, cybernization, Overwatch burning down, and I'm gonna die because of bad upkeep. Fucking-- I'll just jump off the cliff, that's better."

"Genji."

You straighten up (kind of) and look at Zenyatta's eyes.

"Genji, I need you to calm down. I can't understand you."

You open your mouth and only then do you realize you switched to Japanese mid-panic.

"Please breathe slowly and tell me what's wrong."

He sounds scared. Again he somehow tricks you into thinking he's making an expression and - it might be the sunset, it might be the weird orbs around his neck but - you'd swear you see tears on his cheeks.

"I feel warm", you say, and watch in awe the puff your breath makes. "But it's freezing."

Zenyatta reaches over your shoulder and brings a light in your view. Like a balloon attached to you, one of the orbs, glowing loud and refusing to detach.

You follow the string to your chest.

"I'm sorry I caused you panic", he says. "I was trying to help."

Wise old Zenyatta looks much younger when he apologizes.

 

"It's my birthday today", you murmur when it is.

"Happy birthday", Zenyatta offers, folding himself out of meditation. "How old are you turning?"

"Thirty-three."

"My!" he says, covers his mouth like it would smile if he didn't. "You're old."

You knit your brows, do some math to figure how long ago omnics first started being mass-produced. "And how old are you?"

"Almost eighteen."

Your jaw drops, but thankfully it's well-attached to your flesh bits so it doesn't go far. "Come again?"

"Is it that hard to believe?" he cocks his head to the side.

"Eighteen, you said?"

"Almost, yes."

"Almost!" You stand up, throw your hands to the air. "You're not even a legal adult!"

"That law doesn't apply to omnics, actually."

"I've been getting schooled by a child."

"Again, I'm not a human, I age and mature differently."

"You mature weird!" You want to laugh - or cry, maybe. Or bang your head on the wall. "You get your own self so well you can practically _smell_ disquiet, but you've never even left Nepal!"

"Many people live their lives without leaving their home country."

"You're so amused by memes you  _actually laugh."_

"Okay, guilty", he throws his hands up. "So I'm young. How does that change your perception of me in any way?"

"Well, for one, now I feel guilty for all the baggage I've bumped on you. You didn't have to listen to any of that."

"It's fine. It's only information I process."

You sit back down, fix him with a look now that he's learned to read your mask. "Is it?"

He stays quiet for a moment before he floats down to rest on the floor. "No, I do have an emotional connection with you that makes it harder to process, and pains me to a certain degree. But that connection developped through that baggage you've shared, and I doubt it would've been there otherwise. So, thank you for being open. You're a lovely student."

You smile. It's easier now that you're used to it again. "And you're a lovely master."

 

This year Hanzo walks in the Shimada castle without any will to fight, and if you had any plans to confort him they all die as you and the guards all watch him walk inside quiet, hunched, and limping.

 

"Was Overwatch really like a family to you?"

You open your eyes, lift your head off your pillow. Ever since you told Zenyatta he could come to you whenever he wanted, he's been calculating your sleep schedule (so at to not disturb it) and waking you up after exactly two sleep circles.

You sit up, let your body start the warming up process. Meanwhile, you try to switch your brain to think in English. "Come again?"

"Was Overwatch like a family to you?"

"Uhh I'd say yes, though it didn't feel like it at the time. Like when you leave to go to college and suddenly realize how different things are outside of home."

Zenyatta droops his head. "I've never really been outside of home." He hugs himself.

You're not sure what time it is so you can't blame it on the night, and you just woke up so you can't blame it on restlessness, but the idea that comes to mind slips through your mouth before you can weigh it.

"Wanna travel with me?"

 

Zenyatta is a lovely companion, and a pair of omnics always attracts less attention than a single fidgety robot-looking guy, so you find yourself smiling even more, laughing after so long.

You go to India together, catch a ship to Oman, a plane to Iran, a quick train to Azerbaijan and back. Middle East is wonderful, you both agree. You meet people who Zenyatta guides and people who you drive away and people who you both protect and you wonder if it's the lands you visit or the time in your life that lets you experience these things.

Istanbul is a must-visit, of course, though you're not sure if you qualify as tourists. This large city makes you feel blended in. Has that ever happened?

And it's in this city, the only to spread on two continents, that Zenyatta convinces you to reactivate your old Overwatch comm.

You're both cross-legged on the hotel bed and hunched over the small device, your dragon half-corporeal coiled in your lap. The first thing you notice when you turn on your comm is that it transmits your location - but you're not running or hiding anymore, so you don't care.

The second thing is that the most recent notification was about half a year ago.

Then a year before that.

And a year before that...

And it's Zenyatta that notices those yearly notifications are all on Children's Day.

You take a deep breath and open them all in reverse order.

_From [outward source]: Not forgotten yet._

_From [outward source]: Are you even alive? I haven't forgotten you._

_From [outward source]: My comm broke. I wasn't using it for much either way. I just wished that maybe you'd answer, but now that it broke you wouldn't know where to send a thing if it's to get to me, haha. Uh. Look, I still remember you, alright? I won't forget you like others got forgotten._

_From [Agent McCree]: I'm starting to think today is like your version of Day of the Dead. You're the dead. Well, I mean, you keep saying you died way back when, right? But you lived, you survived, and I met you. If you're still alive, please answer me. And, God forbid, if you're dead, I'll make sure to remember you._

From five years ago, the first year you left, there are more messages, missed voicemails and a general mess you can't work your way through. Before you tackle it, you go through your own archieves.

You find a folder named 'recovered from old' and inside, among others, a file named 'three <3'. You open it with no memory of ever naming anything like that.

_hanzo don't laugh at me looking for my spouses_

Under it, the eyes emoji.

You break into tears.

 

In an ironic twist of fate, you're bandaging up a couple of hurt people when you get ambushed, and Zenyatta is the one who chases the attackers away. One of the people you were bandaging jokingly calls him 'murder monk', and because it's funny and because it's alliterate, it sticks. He loves it.

Later that same week you run across the same two people and, because you never really introduced yourselves, they say "it's the murder monk and the green cyborg ninja dude!"

That sticks even worse, and you'll laugh until you cry with Zenyatta about it.

 

Zenyatta is twenty years old. He's twenty years old, you keep telling yourself as you hold him as steady as you can against his tremors, your armor ringing against him while he cries in silence.

He's twenty years old, you remind yourself, but how old was Mondatta?

You never asked him and now it feels foolish to ask his brother, and why would it matter anyway?

Zenyatta is only twenty, he's never experienced loss, or, if he has, it's been small enough that he could balance himself after a few hours in meditation.

He's twenty and grieving and crying and you're trying not to cry too because you would've murdered for a shoulder to cry on when you were the one mourning your father and the more you think about that the more you think that Zenyatta just lost his brother and picturing your brother crying over your death is the last thing you want to think about when you're trying to support your teacher and for the love of god, Genji, he's spent a small eternity listening to your troubles, can't you even comfort him for a few hours?

He's young and fragile and weeping and you are absolutely useless in helping him.

 

You're actually back in Japan when your comm goes off. For a few seconds you forget how to recognize the feeling of a device vibrating in your pocket, but then you hurry to check it.

A new notification. Like, actually new. Wow.

"Master coME QUICK MY COMM RANG"

"WHAT WHERE WHY"

You open it together. It reads,

_Winston has initiated an Overwatch Recall. Will you respond?_

With two buttons under it, labeled 'Y' and 'N' respectively, elevated in Athena's trademark hover. You run the hover through your systems to confirm that yes, it's Athena's handiwork.

You might be hyperventilating. Your vents pop up.

"What are you gonna do?" Zenyatta asks, and you straight-up slap yourself for even stopping to wonder.

You slam the Y.

_Your answer has been submitted. Thank you for your input. You are the fifth (5th) agent to respond._

Athena's standard response only gets to show for two and a half seconds before it's replaced by a personal one, letters showing one by one letting you know it's typed at the moment.

_Agent Genji, it's been a long time. I'm glad to have you back. Would you like to join us in Gibraltar?_

"Yes!" you say. "Absolutely, oh god, Athena, is Winston there?"

_Of course, he just sent the Recall, after all. Would you like to speak with him? I can patch you through right now._

You're not done reading before Zenyatta says, "Who is Athena?"

_Is someone with you?_

And it's like introducing your datemates to each other all over again. Oh, you missed this. "Athena's the AI Winston made for Overwatch, but after its fall I assumed she'd be gone. She's not! Athena, I'm with Zenyatta right now. He's--" you look at him, wonder if it's rude that you can't explain 'spiritual guide' to an AI. "--a long and beautiful story, but he's my guru. He's trustworthy, don't worry."

_Zenyatta as in, Tekhartha Zenyatta of the Shambali?_

"I left", Zenyatta says after reading the message. "But I'm still friendly with them."

_It's a pleasure to meet you._

"Likewise."

_Would you still like to speak with Winston?_

"Yes please!" you say, wiggle excitedly while trying to find a good angle to place your comm in.

_Patching through... Patched. Say hi._

Over Athena's logo appears Winston's old ID photo.

"Winston, it's Genji! It's been such a long time, how are you?"

"Oh, uhh, I'm good, thanks. Athena says you're not alone?"

"I'm with Zenyatta, my guru."

"Blessings be upon you", Zenyatta says, waving his hand like Winston can see it.

"Uh hi there. Um. What. What did you say he was?"

"My guru, a spiritual guide. My friend, above all, Winston. You can trust him."

"If you say so... Anyway I wasn't gonna say anything too sensitive, the channel's security is up in the air right now. If you can come to Gibraltar, that'd be great, you know?"

"We will, as soon as we can. Oh you have no idea how happy I am, Winston."

He chuckles, soft and awkward like it's always been. "I think I might. I just got done speaking with Lena. Nobody can really be sad after speaking to her. Well, maybe except you."

"Well, not anymore. I lost my immunity."

Winston laughs again, and Zenyatta joins in so you let yourself smile.

"Anyway, Athena said there've been others who answered. Who are they?"

"Well, Tracer, first and foremost. Torbjorn and Reinhardt, and someone outside our network, though they have to have had an Overwatch comm at SOME point if they could connect. We're tracting them down right now, they're somewhere in North America."

You knew three Americans closely, though two are dead and the third is off-net for sure. Still, you don't get your hopes up. Winston can probably guess the same. "Anyone else?"

"It's past midnight in Europe, Genji, give them some time."

"Then what are you doing up?"

"We were attacked, Athena's still tracking her own files for damage. We're fine now, though."

"Oh. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, we'll have probably found a way to work around it by the time you get here."

"Yeah, we'll probably take a while."

"Oh", Winston goes, and you hear a faint beep from his end. "Reinhardt wants to talk. Do you wanna have group convo or disconnect?"

"I'll disconnect for now, thank you. It was good to hear from you again."

"You too."

You turn the comm off. Zenyatta claps his hands together. "Do you think they might let me join?"

You laugh. "They let _me_."

"When should we leave?"

"Just let me take care of one thing, and then we can go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter!! there's an epilogue after this so don't worry about the sorta-cliffhanger, it's literally the first thing to happen next chap. as always you can leave a tip [here.](https://ko-fi.com/A726AD0)


	5. Epilogue

It's Children's Day and you've left Zenyatta at the next town over from Hanamura, just to be extra sure he's safe.

You arrive before Hanzo and get to see the guards placing bets with each other on who can stop him this year. They're foolish and don't even notice Hanzo until he's already taken out two of them.

You follow him in, watch while he goes about his ritual.

You can't handle it, he's being so slow, so meditative with it, you don't even give him time to place the incense before you make yourself known.

"You are not the first assassin sent to kill me. And you will not", he places the incense, "be the last."

So he doesn't recognize you, not with his back turned, at least. You land in the silent way he could never perfectly replicate, and watch in disappointment as he doesn't respond to that, either.

"You are bold to come to Shimada castle, the den of your enemies." You play along, pick your words half-carefully and half-playfully. He doesn't recognize your distorted voice, either.

"This was once my home", he says, grabbing for his bow. "Did your masters not tell you who I was?"

And he fires, the idiot, still failing to recognize you by posture, movement, anything. You barely move to dodge it. "I know who you are, Hanzo."

And his face. His fucking face. You'd bet real money he hasn't been called by first name in months, if not years.

"I know you come here every year, on the same day."

He fires again, but you barely notice what you're doing when you dodge.

"You risk so much to honor someone you murdered", you growl. Your dragon preens under your lungs as you shoot shuriken at your brother.

"You know nothing of what happened", says the dense motherfucker, refusing to notice anything familiar about you. You don't give him the satisfaction of dodging the next arrow, deflecting it instead, and running to a better position when he still fires at you, still doesn't recognize you.

Does he really know that many people who can deflect flying arrows?

You make sure he's following before you hide in the balcony.

"I know that you tell yourself that your brother disobeyed the clan, and that you had to kill him to maintain order." You grit your teeth. "That it was your duty."

"It was my duty, and my burden."

He fires, you deflect, and you fall in a purely-Shimada stance he doesn't recognize.

"That does not mean I do not honor him!"

What. A. Stubborn. Piece. Of. Shit. You cut his arrow in half lengthwise while it flies, and, of all things, that's what gives him pause.

He recovers fast and swings his bow at you. Now that he's so close, you have to fall to a fight that suits your cybernetics better, one he doesn't know. With a double jump you land a dropkick on him without actually dropping, with enough time to bring your sword down to meet his bow.

And oh, how easy it would be to stab through his face right now, with your strength and his awkward position. He knows it too, starts looking for exits before you start speaking.

"You think you honor" me me me "your brother Genji with incense and offerings? Honor resides in one's actions."

"You dare lecture me about honor?" he says like he has any authority on the matter. "You are not worthy to say his name!"

You don't get to laugh at the irony when you're thrown somersaulting backwards across the balcony. By the time you're on your feet he has pulled his arrow out of the wood floor, nocked, aimed, drawn.

"Let the dragon consume you!"

And you're actually relieved he at least used the appropriate words against a perceived enemy. Last time you heard them, they were aimed at his brother, but last time he was closer and his dragons were terrified.

This time you dodge his arrow, form a small salute and pull out your dragon to play with its siblings.

"Taste the dragon's blade!"

You dragon laughs at you, _(now you want me to be offensive?)_ , but goes with gusto to join Hanzo's as they widen their curl to accompany it, all three of them dancing and cheering around you to follow your sword that you aim back at Hanzo.

That, that, at least, stops him enough that he takes his dragons to the face, falls to his knees.

Your vents pop up as you sheathe your sword. You watch Hanzo stare at the floor.

"Only a Shimada can control the dragons", he concludes. "Who are you?"

For a moment you think he might've figured it out, but he looks at you like you're a thief. And. Oh my God, Hanzo, what kind of idiot thinks spirits can be stolen?

You dash at him, stop with your sword at his throat and your ribbon flowing with his, a remnant of your dragon's delight.

"Do it, then. Kill me."

Another idea hits: can he straight-up not hear his dragons?

You tilt your blade and his head tilts with it, offering up his skin, his veins, the throat he took from you.

You might throw up.

"No", you stand up straight, sheathe your sword. You can't look at him right now. "I will not grant you the death you wish for." You dig for your inner Zenyatta, find words other than _fucker be glad:_ "You still have a purpose in this life, brother."

Now you look at him, and his pity party dissipates as soon as he processes your words.

"No", he stands up, picks up his bow. "No! My brother is dead."

You can hear the _I saw his body_ , you almost say _did you check for a pulse?_

Instead you take off your mask. And now, it's now that he dares to recognize you, now that he looks at your metal jaw and half-there skin, he breathes your name.

And that's as far as he gets before he looks away in disgust, or maybe discomfort, unable to force himself to study you. "What have you... become?"

"I have accepted what I am, and I have forgiven you. Now you must forgive yourself." Now that the deed is done you're anxious to leave; you start for the rails. Your dragon breathes with you. "The world is changing once again, Hanzo, and it's time to pick a side."

You jump on the next roof over before he has time to react. By the time you land he's aiming for you again.

"Real life is not like the stories our father told us. You are a fool for believing it so!" he shouts, but doesn't fire.

"Perhaps I am a fool to think there is still hope for you." You drop a smoke bomb, count down to its activation. "But I do."

You turn to salute him properly. On second thought, you only grant him a casual one. "Think on that, brother."

He doesn't fire.

 

Before you get to Gibraltar, you head back to beloved Middle East with Zenyatta. During the plane ride you get a mass-message from Winston, marked to be transmitted to all Overwatch comm lines, active or not, and all code-active non-Overwatch devices, which is just a fancy way to say Winston's taking risks to reach who could be McCree.

The message is a badly-edited video of Winston rambling, beginning with him failing to communicate basic thoughts despite his obvious preparation, ending with a weirdly inspirational question--

_"Are you with me?"_

You want to scream your answer but the kid next to you is fast asleep.

You text Winston some congrats for his words and an update on your location. It still amuses you that Athena has overridden the naming process to take 'agent' out of Winston's tag.

_From [Winston]: Where in Middle East?_

_To [Winston]: central iran rn. why? d we have business there?_

_To [Winston]: also why isnt autocorr working for me?_

_From [Winston]: Mercy's comm is located in Iraq and it keeps moving, so she must have it on her, but it keeps breaking off._

_To [Winston]: breaking off??_

_From [Winston]: It switches her answer to the Recall between accepted and declined every few hours, with no recognizable pattern. Sometimes it shuts off altogether, but that could be her manually turning it off._

_To [Winston]: that means she knows theres a recall right?? why is she tunring it off when she could b gettin important info??_

_From [Winston]: For all we know she could be in danger, or performing surgery. Plenty of reasons to avoid being disturbed._

_To [Winston]: patch hr location through, I'll go get her when I can._

_To [Winston]: Oh look, autocorrect is back._

 

With coordinates in your hand and a few gentle questions from Zenyatta to the locals, it's pretty easy to find Mercy, even with her comm deactivated at this time of night. She's in a shack made of stone and old wood, and the guy that opens the door gives you a look of distrust.

"Is Dr. Zeigler here?" you say before the guy tries to speak Arabic.

"It's late", the guy says. "If it's not an emergency, I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Please, I need to speak with her. I'm an old friend."

The guy scoffs. "Yeah right. You can come back in the morning."

"I insist."

Zenyatta puts a hand on your shoulder before he speaks. "Stranger", he says, "I assure you we wouldn't dare impose at such an hour if it were not an important matter. If nothing else, please let us inside so we may rest. It's been a long walk."

The guy crosses his arms. "Omnics don't get tired."

"Not true, but", you take off your mask, "I'm not an omnic."

You wait for the guy to pick his jaw off the floor before you replace your mask and continue talking. "I'm an old patient of hers, and a friend. We've come a long way. Please step aside."

The guy's hands are shaking as he lets you in and closes the door behind you. "Fine", he says, "you can go, but this one", he points at Zenyatta, "is staying here."

"I'll be delighted to keep you company."

At the back of the shack, behind a barely-functioning door, you find Mercy sleeping with her back to you. The armored parts of her Valkyrie suit are scattered on the floor but you don't see the rest anywhere, so she must have those on.

You go to nudge her shoulder, call her name, but you don't even get to touch her before you get a barrel pressed against your visor.

Your hands are up before you can process what's happening.

Mercy blinks, rubs an eye with her free hand, blinks some more, flicks herself in the cheek like she might be hallucinating.

"It hasn't been so long that you can't recognize your own work", you say.

Mercy, still blinking like no tomorrow, squints and frowns. "Genji?"

"Hey, doctor."

She rubs her other eye, runs her hand through her messy hair. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Could you please take your gun off my eye?"

Mercy visually traces her arm to her hand to her pistol to your visor. She pulls back with a groan. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too."

She glares. Have her eye bags always been that prominent?

"Did you see the Recall?"

"Of course."

"Winston says your comm's giving some weird responses, switching back and forth between yes and no."

She crosses her arms and looks to the side. "That's because I haven't decided yet. I'm switching it manually, the comm is fine."

You take a moment. "What do you mean, haven't decided? We're forming Overwatch again, you realize?"

"Yes. And don't get me wrong, Overwatch was a great organization, we helped a lot of people, it was the best thing that happened to me, all of that, but--"

She frowns deeper, glaces at you for a moment.

"But it was shut down for a reason. It might be for the best that we don't bring it back." She turns to you now, and she looks much older than she is. "I don't want to see anyone else going down with the ship."

There's no furniture other than her bed, so you kneel in place to get closer. "The Commanders?"

"And Ana, and Lacroix, and so many others - we weren't the only ones with losses."

You lean your elbow on your knee. "Were you there? When the base blew up?"

She covers her face. "Yes."

"...Who did you find?"

"Everyone."

"Weren't there any other medics?"

"I found them, too."

You don't really know how to respond. The only death you've ever seen was either your work or limited in numbers.

She rubs the heels of her palms in her eyes, you figure that can't be good for her sight. You pry her hands away.

"Do you know why I never broke down while keeping you alive, Genji?"

"Why?"

"Because I didn't know you. By the time we met you were already half-there."

You chuckle. She jerks her head up in surprise at the sound.

"You say that, but breathing still hurts."

"It hurts?"

"Not always, and my dragon helps, but yeah. It fucking hurts. It's the only bit of me connected to machine that can stil register pain."

Her hands curl in yours. "You should've told me. I could've fixed it."

"You did. This _is_ fixed."

 

You come back out to find Zenyatta in meditation and the door guy in tears.

"Ah, you're back. How did it go?"

"Could do better, could do worse. Let's stay for the night and we can try again in the morning." You turn to the guy. "If we can impose that long, of course."

He wipes his eyes. "Take all the time you need", he sobs, then offers a quiet yet sincere thanks to Zenyatta before leaving the room.

You sit down next to your master on the floor, join him in meditation. "What did you do?"

"Nothing you haven't experienced yourself."

 

The next morning Mercy wakes you both up exactly at dawn, and you all eat a quick breakfast prepared by the guy.

Mercy goes about her day and you have to follow her around to try and convince her.

"Are you really telling me providing for the sick and injured of the world is what you're after in this life?" you say while carrying two crates of supplies.

"It beats doing research in a sanitized lab."

"But it's not your dream work - you're a field medic if I've ever seen one, doctor, and you're out of place working out of battle."

She disposes her share of carrying, letting you and Zenyatta do the same as you begin walking back to get more. "It's not about having a place to work, it's about being as helpful as I can."

You laugh. Loud, ugly, hard enough that you have to stop and lean on Zenyatta for support while your dragon scolds you for overworking your diaphragm.

Mercy almost trips as she stares.

"With your brains? You're most helpful in the labs."

" _Practically_ helpful, Genji."

You make sure you won't be heard by any stray ears when you tell her, "I think you know I know you don't care about helping people, doctor." You gesture at yourself. "Exhibit A."

She bristles. "Are you even the same person? You're so different I barely recognize you!"

"I am different. I changed a lot." You turn to Zenyatta. "I like to think this is the third time I was given the chance to live."

"Third?"

"Yeah. First by my parents, second by you and Overwatch, third by Zenyatta and the Shambali."

Mercy frowns. "What?"

"It's just, I'm so different than I was before. And I was wildly different than when I was little. I really do feel like I've lived three lives."

Zenyatta does his expression thing, gives a smile. "People change. You've had incredibly changing things happen to you; I am delighted to have been able to provide even a bit of comfort."

"You've done way more than that, master." You turn to face him fully, offer a proper warrior's salute. "You gave me this life."

"You made it yourself. I'm but a guide."

"You're really different", Mercy says. "It's kinda weird."

"I feel whole", you say, for lack of better words. "I don't think I've ever felt that before."

She smiles. It makes her eye bags look bigger. "What did this monk give you to change you like this?"

Oh but you know the answer, and so does Zenyatta, and it's honestly a wonder Mercy didn't figure it out on her own, but maybe she's only asking to confirm.

"Peace."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we did it! it's done! i hope you guys liked it, bc i really loved working on it lol  
> [ so much, in fact, that i doodled some things about it ](http://thephilosophah.tumblr.com/tagged/gptp)  
> also, you didn't hear it from me, but this might turn into a series....


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